


Double Date

by casstayinmyass



Category: Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Dafoe, Daddy Kink, Desk Sex, Doggy Style, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Kissing, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Smut, Willem Dafoe Is So Daddy, dare i say it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Harry Osborn has had a crush on you since you became friends. When you invite him to be your date to a charity benefit, you stop at his place first, and meet his father…





	Double Date

“You wanna do what?” Harry sits beside you as you stare out at the fountains.

“I just thought, you’re the perfect person! We’ve been the best of friends since I started seeing you around the gala circuit, and you’re like… the one person who talks to me.”

“Everyone’s too scared of talking to you,” Harry mutters, “Your dad scares them all off.”

A blush heats up your cheeks. “Well, he shouldn’t. My father knows not to meddle in my daily life. Anyway, how about it?”

“Sure,” he shrugs casually, “I haven’t got anything else to do, I guess. Pete’s going to this thing with MJ. Nothing good on TV. I guess I can dust off the old penguin suit.”

You grin. “Great! I’m so happy you said yes. I didn’t want to go to the benefit alone.”

He gives a weak smile back. “I wouldn’t wanna see you go alone.”

* * *

 That night, you arrive at the Osborne mansion, dressed up in a form fitting black evening gown with a diamond necklace. Your hair is done up in a cascading bun, the front pieces just dusting your shoulders. As you knock and enter, you call out.

“Harry?!”

He dashes out, and runs down the stairs, slicking his hair back obsessively.

“(y/n)! You look… amazing. I’ll be ready in a sec, I’m just waiting for the, uh… the iron to heat up!”

You laugh. Typical of your friend to leave everything to the last minute.

You wait by the staircase, and twirl your hair. You suppose a little rest before the evening was beneficial – you had spent hours getting ready, preparing your hair and preparing what you would say. You were an expert at schmoozing politicians for backing and funding for your family’s plans.

You hear a noise behind you, and turn. “That was quick, Harry—" You straighten up in surprise.

“Hello.”

It’s not Harry. It’s an older, distinguished yet personable-looking man, holding a glass of what looks like scotch. You blink a couple of times. 

“Ah. Harry mentioned something about a gala tonight. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s all he’s talked about, but I’m afraid I’m not the best listener.” He chuckles, and strides forward, giving you a once over. Normally, you’d cover up in discomfort, but his gaze makes you shiver with an odd kind of pride... and arousal.

“Forgive me, I’m Norman Osborn, Harry’s dad.” He extends a hand, and when you shake it, he holds it.

“(y/n) Fisk,” you say, and his brows go up.

“Fisk. You’ve got an important father as well.”

You smile tightly. “And I’d like to be recognized for my singular accomplishments outside of the family. That is what I work toward, Mr. Osborn.”

He nods slowly. “I respect that. Not out spending daddy’s money, you’re out making a name for yourself.” He hums. “Remarkable. You know, Miss Fisk… you’re all Harry talks about.”

You frown slightly. “Really?” Harry’s only a friend. He must just mean that his son is—

“Yes, he’s quite smitten with you,” Mr. Osborn continues, “At first I just thought he was after a little tail. I know my son, and that’s how he is. But now… now, I see what all the fuss was about.” He gives your hand a quick squeeze, then releases it. “But listen to me ramble on. You and my son must need to get going—and I need to get back to my research.”

“Harry’s still getting ready,” you mention, and Norman hesitates.

“Mm. Figures. That should take a while. I guess I’d be rude if I didn’t offer you a drink while you stand around waiting for him to style his hair.”

You smile, and follow him to the other room—what looks like a study, with wall to wall books, a large desk, and a curiously centered mirror.

“I feel like it’s inappropriate to say…” you begin, and Norman looks back at you, interested.

“By all means, feel free to say anything,” he smiles, “I’m not as scary as I look.”

You bite your lip, dragging a finger across a polished bookcase shelf. “I was a huge fan of your work in high school. I did a bunch of papers on you… I never lost faith in Oscorp, sir.”

Norman’s chin lifts. “I appreciate that.” He tilts his head, obviously impressed. “You’ve… read my research?”

“I could practically teach it,” you grin. Norman suddenly flinches. He can hear the laughter.

_**Hear that, Osborn?! She knows everything about you. She wants you!** _

“No she doesn’t,” Norman mutters under his breath.

“Hm?” you turn.

“I said… that’s remarkable,” Norman crosses his arms, “I’ve only met one other who’s read and understood it. It’s a fascinating study.”

“It is.” You look back to the bookcase, pulling one out on molecular manipulation for the purpose of flight efficiency.

**_Take her Osborn! She wants to feel you… she’s rubbing her legs together just thinking of you…_ **

“No!”

“Oh,” you turn with a blush, putting the book back, “I’m really sorry. I have a habit of touching things that aren’t mine. Sorry!”

“No, no.” Norman swallows, keeping his distance, and lets out a forced laugh. “I didn’t mean that. I just thought of something.”

“Something about your… research?” you quirk an eyebrow, looking at him. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, displaying lithe muscles, and his legs are crossed in his leaning position against the desk. He couldn’t look more daddy. You feel yourself becoming involuntarily wet… Harry’s your date, and this is his father! Control yourself.

“Yes darling,” he answers, “My research.”

You walk over, and you can see the lust in his eyes as they descend on you. You can hear his breath quicken, but he refuses to uncross his arms for some reason.

“Mr. Osborn,” you murmur, and he closes his eyes. He’s desperate. He wants you, but you’re his son’s date. He can’t tell if this is actually happening, or if it’s just some fever dream the goblin is feeding him.

“Mr. Osborn,” you repeat, snapping him out of it, “Are you alright?” You touch his forearm, and he lets out a sigh. You approach, and he realizes how close you really are; there’s no denying anymore that you want him back.

You look down at his lips. As if in a trance, you feel drawn to him, and lean up to kiss him. He takes your wrist, stopping you.

“What’s wrong?” you breathe.

“I can’t trust myself,” he pleads, looking deep into your eyes. You lick your lips, then begin to sink to your knees. He lets out a heavy breath, eyelids fluttering, and threads his fingers through your hair, stroking your head gently as you open up his pants, unzipping his fly. You find him painfully hard, and moan in relief as you wrap your lips around him.

“(y/n),” he whispers in amazement, and you take him deeper, propelled by the sound of his soft groans. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you swallow around the head. His jaw clenches. He stands above you, a powerful businessman and scientist, fully clothed and fucking your mouth, like you’re some little plaything kept only for when he needs you. It makes you so wet thinking about it.

Norman moans, holding onto you, and thinks about how much this turns him on—his son’s pretty girl is his now, sucking his dick in his office. She does want him, and he can hear her arousal. Her breasts look so gorgeous, jiggling as she sucks him off down there—

_**What’d I tell you?! Now do it! We know you wanna fill that sweet little pussy…** _

“Mmm,” Norman toils, eyes squeezed shut. You pop off of him, precum dripping from your lips, and stand again, looping your arms around his neck. He’s breathless and debauched, and his pupils are dilated. Your lips are swollen, and your mouth is messy.

“Mr. Osborn sir,” you whisper, “I need you to fuck me.”

That’s it. Norman snaps. Something in his eyes changes, and he growls, taking your arms and flipping you around. He pushes everything off his desk with a crash, and bends you over it. As if he’s struggling, he rasps:

“Give me a word to stop.”

“Velvet,” you breathe fast, no stranger to safe words. He nods, and bunches up your slinky black dress around your torso, pulling down your panties and sliding in. You moan, arching your back, and he wraps his hands around your neck, squeezing.

“Is this what you want?!” he snarls, sounding almost inhuman, “You like getting fucked by his father?!”

“Ohh,” you moan.

“Let me hear you, little girl! Tell me how ya like it!”

“Harder, daddy!” you whine, and he pounds in, shaking the desk violently with every thrust. His squeezing against your windpipe gets even tighter as you build to climax, and your fingernails scrape the desk. He leans forward over you.

“Harry thinks you’re his?” He sneers, and attaches his lips to your neck, sucking a deep mark there. “Look who you belong to now. You’re mine, little pretty.”

“Yours,” you breathe, words just tumbling out of your mouth nonsensically at this point.

He grunts, then his thrusts get even more powerful, pounding in a few more times before you clutch the side of the desk and scream his name.

“NORMAN!”

“Unghh…” He comes inside you as you gush around him. He releases his chokehold on you as he thrusts lazily a few last times, then pulls out. You take a deep breath of air, and turn around, legs spread. Norman looks down at your pussy, domineering smirk on his face, and places his thumb between your open lips. You watch him intensely, sucking it into your mouth, and stand up, pulling your panties up. He watches you, and sees a little drip down your thighs as you pull your dress back down. He exhales, and helps you up.

It seems the man from before has come back.

“Can I walk you out?” he asks, doing up his pants. You take his arm.

“I’m gonna need a little help.”

You both walk out, and you realize your hair is falling out, and your lip colour is horribly smudged. You fix everything up, but Norman gestures for you to turn around with your back to him. He reaches.

“I’m of the opinion you look even better with your hair down, dear,” he rasps, and uncurls your loosened bun. You smile, feeling another pleasant shiver run through you, and hear a door open upstairs.

“Ready! Oh my god, oh gosh, I am so sorry I took so long, I kept you waiting so long, god, I’m an ass—" Harry stops doing up his lopsided bow-tie at the bottom of the stairs. “Dad.” He seems surprised. “I thought you said you’d be in the lab all night, and you wouldn’t be able to come out and meet (y/n).”

“I remembered how special tonight was for you,” Norman says, putting his hands in his pockets, “I was even thinking of putting in an appearance later.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry nods, “They’d love to have a man like you there, sir. Definitely. Wouldn’t they, (y/n)?”

“I know they would.” Norman looks at you, a twinkle in his eye.

“It was a pleasure to finally meet you,” he takes your hand. Harry squints at your neck.

“What’s that?” Oh god. The hickie. Just then, Norman cuts in.

“Harry! You’re not wearing the coat with our family crest stitched into the lapel.”

“Yeah, for a reason,” Harry mumbles, successfully deterred.

“Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are,” Norman says, and gives you a wink.

As you and Harry leave to grab the limo waiting outside, Norman sits down behind his desk back in his office.

**_See what kinda magic we can make when we work together?!_ **

As you get into the car outside with your friend, you think you hear traces of maniacal laughter coming from the mansion.

It’s probably just in your head.


End file.
